


those were the days

by itisjosh



Series: onlypain [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Memories, Minecraft, Minecraft IRL, Nostalgia, Past Character Death, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27505039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: How the hell did it end up like this?
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: onlypain [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027711
Comments: 34
Kudos: 209





	those were the days

Tommy stares out over the rubble, wrinkling his nose at the smell of smoke. He thought that it would be gone by now, but apparently not. He shifts his weight, leaning on his left foot. His right leg is healing, still bandaged. He has to be careful to not move it wrong, or else he's going to have to rewrap it again, and that's fucking painful. Tommy swallows, taking a shaky breath. Last time he was here, he almost fucking died. 

Last time he was here, he watched his best friend and his older brother die. 

Wilbur was the one who detonated it. He was the one who made that choice. Tommy tried so hard to make him stop, to get him away from "Manberg", as it was so crudely renamed. L'manberg used to be his home. A safe haven for survivors and people who needed a place to rest. He remembers building the walls of L'manberg, getting cement and plaster smeared all over his hands and face. It's a fucking miracle it didn't stick. Tommy stares out at what's left of his home. 

There isn't much. 

Buildings are tilted over on their sides, collapsed inwards. It's been a little over half a year now, but the fire is still raging on. Something about this place is magic, and not in the good way. Tommy's fairly certain that the fire is going to burn on forever, and he really, really wishes it wouldn't. He can still see the lake, the little river that trailed around his old home. The water looks like oil now, and Tommy wouldn't be surprised if it actually was. He can't even see through it, it's all just..it's so fucking _gross_. It's disgusting. He feels his heart lurch when he spots the singular fucking thing that's intact, that's still pristine as ever.

His bench. His jukebox. 

Of course those would be left alone. Of course those would be left there, to be allowed to mock him one last time. It isn't like Tommy can even get there. The ground is still too hot, it burns his feet every single time he tries to go onto it. The land is fucking ruined, and he knows it. He's well aware that he's never going to be able to go to his bench, to sit down and look at the sunrise. He wishes that he could, but he wished a lot of things, and none of those things ever came to life. Tommy slowly sits down, careful to not put too much weight on his right leg. 

L'manberg was built by his older brother, Wilbur. L'manberg was a place for people to live and to be safe. A place of shelter, somewhere the broken and hurt could go to rest. It was filled with stragglers and Tommy was _so_ happy that they got it. They fought for it, they fought so fucking hard. Tommy nearly got himself killed in a duel against a faction leader named Dream, who wore a stupid smiley-mask. He barely managed to win, and it was nearly called a draw. But he did it, he earned L'manberg's freedom. He got them their freedom, and it was the best day of his life. Then they built the walls, to keep out Dream's group. To make sure that they didn't fucking try and crawl their way into their home. 

Of course, that all got fucking snatched away when Schlatt came rampaging through. He brought a decent sized group of people with him. He threatened public execution, he threatened to kill Wilbur. So Tommy bit the fuck down on his pride, and..they ran. Tubbo was forced to stay behind, and it was only because Schlatt wanted to keep a goddamn trophy. But it wasn't like they were going to give up, and like hell they didn't. Tommy dragged Wilbur off into the woods, nearly falling into a ravine. 

That ravine would become Pogtopia. 

They started to scheme, to plan. They were ready to get their home back, and they weren't going to stop at anything to get it back. Tubbo managed to sneak out of the walls, to relay information back to them. Tommy remembers how he nearly cried when Tubbo first showed up, looking like a kicked dog. He looked so _tired_ , and Tommy swore that he was going to kill Schlatt for doing that to him. Then..then, Wilbur went fucking _mental_. 

He started talking to himself, he started to tell Tommy that he had the entire place rigged. That he had set up explosives under L'manberg, and that he was going to blow it up. Tommy tried so hard to convince him not to, he tried to get his brother to understand how fucking _stupid_ he was being. Tubbo told him about a festival, a huge, political event that Schlatt was going to throw to celebrate the fall of L'manberg. It was just another flashy act of power, and this time, Tommy was going to take care of it. He told Wilbur to stay the hell in Pogtopia, to let him go alone. 

He brought Dream's crossbow, the one he stole from him, with him. He held it up to his eye, and he pointed it _right at Schlatt's stupid fucking face-_

 _Click_.

Tommy had whirled around, he had turned back to face his brother. There he was, there Wilbur was. Standing there with a detonator in hand, a tired smile on his face. 

"We've always been the bad guys, Tommy." Wilbur told him, and then Wilbur was on the ground, bleeding out. There was so much blood, and Tommy barely had a second to look at Tubbo, who locked eyes with him. 

_Boom_. 

Tommy watched as L'manberg got blown to shit. He watched as his best friend tried to scream his name, but it was too late. Tubbo died the second those explosives went off. 

Tommy blinks, taking a step back. He blinks again, removing the image of the explosion from his head, focusing on the dull, polluted land in front of him. He used to be so happy. He used to sit with Tubbo and just listen to music, listen to his discs. They'd just talk about their lives and how happy they were. Tommy remembers sending out scouting parties to find food and water. He remembers leading them, he remembers finding Dream's group. Tommy remembers cooperating until it was unbearable, and then he started to dance to his own beat. 

Tubbo had always been with him. He was always by his side, and he never left. Tubbo was the only one, ultimately, Tommy could trust. 

Tubbo is dead.

Tommy still hasn't been able to find his body. Wilbur is buried in the centre of L'manberg. Tommy had to wear three layers of clothing, two pairs of gloves. Boots that were so heavy and filled with rubber he had barely been able to move his feet. A gas mask attached to his face to prevent him from dying the second he stepped foot into that hellhole. But it was worth it. Tommy had hauled Wilbur over his shoulders, burying him in the centre of his home. 

Wilbur might have gone crazy, but that doesn't mean that Tommy was going to let his brother's body lay somewhere else other than his home. The nation he had created from the ground up. 

He stands, pushing himself off of the ground. Everything he had ever worked for was over in an instant, and there's nothing he can do about it. He doesn't have a home anymore. He can't go to Pogtopia, because it's so quiet and empty. He's afraid that he'll go insane like Wilbur had. He can't go to L'manberg, because there is _no_ L'manberg. He's got no where left. He's alone. 

Tommy sighs, turning away from his home. 

_Those were the days._


End file.
